Fate StAy-U
by Tari Silmarwen
Summary: Collection of AU drabbles and one-shots of various flavors concerning our favorite Fateverse characters.
1. Fascination

(A/N)- First off, I would like to apologize terribly for the awful pun that is the title of this little collection. _I'm sorry._

Secondly, welcome dear readers! As stated in the summary, this story is a collection of Fate AUs in varying flavors, exploring different little scenarios the anons on Tumblr think up for me. Most of them fall under a general "Saber is revived in present day and makes her way back to Shirou" sort of premise, though I will note it if otherwise. Expected ships will be mostly canon, with quite a bit of Shirou/Saber as that's my favorite and you can't take it away from me. This first chapter is one such item of the aforementioned premise, anon having called for "Shirou and Saber spar in the dojo and things get... ah... heated". I'll not keep you much longer and let you get to it.

I hope you enjoy your stay.

Disclaimer: Get used to seeing these, darlings. I have way too much fun writing them. (And not so much fun not owning my fandoms but hey, what can you do?)

* * *

 **Fascination**

Their training swords smacked against each other with wooden thunks, rapid and quick, punctuated only by their heavy breathing and the occasional pained grunt from Shirou as Saber nailed him.

"You're getting… faster, Shirou…" Saber huffed between blows.

Shirou managed a grin, blowing the sweat-drenched strands of hair out of his face before replying, "It's because I have an excellent teacher of course."

Saber turned her face aside with a demure blush, even as she dodged one of Shirou's overhand swings. "Flattery won't help you win," she teased.

The boy frowned and drove forward, striking horizontally towards her flank. "That's mean, Saber. Here I was trying to compliment you and you throw it back in my face," he complained.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to take it easy on you in training," she told him, a wry smirk spreading across her face.

His eyes gleamed mischievously at her. "Guess I'll just have to try harder then."

He pushed more power to his blows, drawing upon some reserve of strength he'd been holding back. Saber was impressed, and found herself giving a bit of ground as they traded blows. Even as she defended, she couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. The sweat dripping down his face, the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the determination in his brown eyes, and the set of his lips in their stoic frown. They parted softly to let air in and out, puckered as he felt one of his strikes get easily deflected, pressed together tightly as he focused. She stared at his mouth in fascination, every little movement captivating her.

Her distraction let Shirou finally knock her bokken aside and grab hold of her wrist before she could raise it again, pulling her closer to him. "Gotcha!" he declared triumphantly.

She merely closed the distance between them, her free hand going to the back of his head as she pressed her mouth to his.

Shirou made a startled noise, his eyes going wide in surprise. He stood there dumbly a moment, his cognitive functions grinding to a halt. Saber pressed to his chest, her lips warm, her body soft. The bokken dropped from his hand as he reached for her, cupping her face and deepening the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around him, sighing into his mouth. Her fingers loosened on her own sword and as Shirou's fingers brushed back through her hair she let it fall with a small hollow plink to the floor.

-FSN-

Rin strode the hallway, humming softly to herself. She steered towards the dojo. It was getting late; Shirou and Saber had been in there all afternoon. If the household was going to get dinner on time, Shirou would have to pull himself away from training now, so he could shower and get cleaned up before preparing their meal.

She rounded the corner and swung around the doorway to the dojo, a playful greeting already on her lips but stopped dead just shy of the threshold, her eyes widening.

Shirou and Saber weren't training. They were moaning, tongue deep in each other's mouths, and Saber appeared to be trying to pull Shirou's shirt off.

…Possibly his pants too.

Rin took a small step back, averting her eyes, and cleared her throat awkwardly.

The couple broke apart instantly, flushing red and leaping several feet away from each other.

"R-Rin!" Saber stammered. "My apologies for your catching us in such an… indecent manner."

Rin was smirking now, her arms crossed in front of her. "It's fine, Saber." She glanced over to Shirou, whose face was beet red and who was pointedly not looking at Saber. "Do you want to come make dinner, Shirou or…" She raised an eyebrow teasingly. "…do you two need a minute?"

He coughed, waving his hand. "I'll be right out, Rin," he said in a small, strained voice.


	2. Naming

(A/N)- Falling under the general "Saber revived and makes her way back to Fuyuki" realm, we have this bit of shameless fluff.

Because babies.

Disclaimer: *disclaimer missing, author is distracted looking through baby name books*

* * *

 **Naming**

"What do you think of Akeno?"

Saber tilted her head up towards him, her bangs brushing the side of his cheek.

"That sounds pretty. What does it mean?" she asked.

Shirou leaned back a bit on his hands, gazing out towards the walls of the villa. "Beautiful Meadow."

Saber gave a playful grin. "You would name our daughter after a field?" she teased.

Her husband flushed lightly, shrinking a bit into his shoulders. "I dunno. It just makes me think of… that glimpse of Avalon… those long waving grasses under a blue sky," he admitted.

"Mmm," Saber acknowledged, growing pensive and remembering.

Shifting, Shirou turned a bit towards her, reaching to pat her growing stomach with his hand. "Besides," he said, smiling now, "don't you think our daughter will be beautiful?"

"Undoubtedly." Saber straightened up, using her hands to scoot back on the deck a fraction. "But it would better to be known for other qualities. She should have a strong name. A proper British name like…" Saber put a finger up to her chin to think for a moment. "…Cwenhild," she decided.

Shirou made a face.

"What is wrong with that name?" Saber griped, whining a little. She had thought Shirou would love it as much as she did. "It is a perfectly acceptable name for the daughter of a King."

"Saber, no one in the twenty-first century is named Cwenhild," Shirou pointed out gently. "For her classmates… it would be more than a little odd, don't you think?"

Saber pursed her lips, her brows furrowing. She supposed he had a point. "Still…" she trailed, reluctant to give up the suggestion. "Emiya Cwenhild has a certain ring to it…"

"I thought we had agreed her first name should be Japanese," Shirou protested.

Saber crossed her arms over her chest, resting them lightly on her protruding belly. "I recall no such agreement," she quipped.

"Yesterday, before breakfast. Don't you remember?" he prompted, a twinge of exasperation creeping through him.

She grimaced, recalling the discussion now. "Ah. That." She had only been paying half-attention when he'd talked, the insistent growling in her stomach taking up much more of her thoughts. "You cannot hold me to any promises I make while I am hungry, Shirou," she told him.

Shirou rubbed a hand down his face. "Oy, Saber…" he groaned.

Laughing at his expression, Saber reached across and took his hand from his face, squeezing the fingers gently. "What if we gave her a middle name? Then both of us could have a name we liked," she suggested.

Shirou shrugged. "I suppose. We'd still have to decide which would be her first name." He extended an arm, an invitation to cuddle some more, and Saber settled herself comfortably against his side again.

"Well…" she said, petting her stomach. "We have some time yet before we have to make a decision."

Shirou rested his chin on her head, kissing her hair lightly. She let out a sigh of contentment, her hand coming up to rest on his chest.

They both looked out towards the gate, feeling the warm sun and the gentle summer breeze.

"We could always just name her after Rin," Shirou joked.

Saber snorted with laughter, giggling into her fist uncontrollably.

* * *

(A/N)- Trivia time! "Cwenhild" means "Battle Queen". Looking through old english and gaelic baby names is how I found it and I thought it'd totally be a name Saber would like.

And you know Aunt Rin would completely spoil that child rotten. :)


	3. Bad End

(A/N)- The AU idea devised for this one was, essentially "Shirou is a normal teenager playing a F/SN-style game, and he's a massive fanboy for Saber".

It was hilarious and I ran with it full throttle.

There may or may not be meta jokes.

Disclaimer: Ha ha, I can't even claim the AU-idea, no way do I own Fate/Stay Night.

* * *

 **Bad End**

The screen changed to a new picture and Shirou leaned forward to read the text.

"Okay… _Her lips curl in a sneer. She raises her golden sword to point it at me,_ " he read. " _'What will you do to stop me?' she asks. I…_ "

The options appeared with a button push and Shirou scanned them quickly.

"Lay down my sword of course," he declared confidently, clicking that option. "I would never hurt Saber."

The screen went black and the game whirred a moment as it loaded. Shirou leaned back in his seat, relaxing.

A red slash sliced the picture, accompanied by a loud scare chord.

Shirou yelped, almost dropping his console, and peered at the text now appearing on the screen. As he read, his eyes widened more and more.

"Wait, no!" he cried. "What?! What is going—?"

Ominous eerie music piped in, accompanying the nightmarish still of a rather dramatic bloodbath, as Saber's voice continued in a cruel monotone, berating him for being weak. There was one final shot looking up at her from below.

Then the screen went dark and the GAME OVER text took her place.

" _Whaaaaat?_ " Shirou blurted in disbelief. "BAD END?! How could that be a Bad End?! You didn't even let me talk to her!"

The tutorial piped in then, with the game's cheerful mascots sighing in disappointment at his choices and explaining what he'd done wrong.

 _"Oh my! Silly hero. Saber can not be reasoned with in this state."_

Shirou scowled. He hugged the tiny plush Saber doll at his side a little closer. "Don't listen to them, Saber," he told her. He stroked her braided yarn hair comfortingly. "I know your heart is still good."

The tutorial sent him back to the main menu, to pick up from his last save point, but Shirou was rather burned out and still stinging from hitting the (completely nonsensical, he thought) Bad End, so he just sighed and put down the console.

"Man," he groaned. "Why is this route so _hard?_ "

-FSN-

"Hey, Emiya!"

Emiya glanced over his shoulder, to see his classmate Issei trotting up to meet him. "Oh. Hey Issei," he replied, glumly.

"Something got you down?" Issei asked, falling into step next to the boy.

"It's nothing," he dismissed.

"Say, are you finished with that game I let you borrow yet?" Issei asked. He flicked a piece of lint off his uniform as he continued, "Shinji said he wanted to play it next." He added in a grumble, "Although I can't imagine _why_."

"Ah…" Shirou felt a twinge of embarassment. "Not… not yet."

"Seriously?" Issei peered at him from behind his glasses. "You've had it a month. I would've thought for sure you'd finished it by now."

Shirou rubbed a hand on the back of his head. "Well… I'm kind of stuck on the part where the magician brainwashes Saber into attacking you. I can't get past that point."

"Really? That's an easy one to get past. You have to say yes to Rin's asking you on a date that morning. Then she comes to your rescue during the battle and manages to break the spell on Saber."

"But I don't wanna do _that!_ " Shirou whined.

Issei stopped walking a moment, tilting his head at Shirou and staring at him like his skin had turned green. "W…hyyy not?" he asked, drawing out the slyables in confusion.

Shirou looked away uncomfortably. "Well… Saber'd be mad if I did that. It'd be like I was cheating on her!"

Issei bawked at him. "But the B Route is Rin's arc," he said, thouroughly bewildered. "You have to spend at least a _little_ time building up your relationship stats with her in order to get through the story."

"But I don't want to hurt Saber's feelings!" Shirou protested.

"Oy, Shirou…" Issei moaned, smacking a hand to his face. "It's just a game. She's not real. You can't really hurt her feelings."

"Yes you can! In the scene before the first battle it says she looks _disappointed_ when I have to leave her to talk to Rin! And she's upset when that older classmate starts flirting with me!" Shirou was gesturing passionately, his voice getting animated and his expression unusually distressed. "I mean, I like Rin—a lot!—She's nice and she's funny and all but… Saber's just… I mean she's so…" He trailed off with a dreamy look in his eyes.

Issei was rubbing his temples now, with both hands. "I'd hate to see your reaction to the C and D Routes…" he mumbled.

"Who do I have to romance in the D Route?" Shirou asked, befuddled. "The classmate? My teacher?"

Issei muttered under his breath before finally confessing, "Rider."

"But she tried to _kill_ me!"

"And Saber didn't?"

Shirou's face twisted in disgust. "She was _brainwashed!_ That's _different!_ "

Issei shook his head, starting to walk again as the first notes of the warning bell sounded. "I think you're a little too into this game, Emiya."

-FSN-

Shirou obsessively checked for replies, twitching and tapping his foot nervously. It had been twenty-four hours ago that he'd posted his plea for help with his… dilemma. Surely, someone had an answer by now.

There were three new posts on the thread. One of them was a rather detailed strategy guide for raising and lowering the relationship stats, though it warned him of the inevitable bad ends that would result from keeping certain ones too low during the invididual routes. It didn't look like he could stay with Saber without eventually gathering the rest of the harem in one way or another. Shirou could feel the awkwardness and confusion rising up in him even as he sat there. He barely knew how to handle _one_ fictional girlfriend, how was he supposed to keep an entire bevy of them happy?

 _And why should I even have_ to? he groused to himself.

The two other posts were sympathetic apologies and admissions of zero knowledge of how to help him. Shirou sighed and closed out of the browser, gazing wistfully at his desktop picture of Saber, in her full armor dress, her hair glowing under the light of a large moon behind her.

A chat window suddenly popped up in the corner of his screen. Shirou clicked on it, curiously. It was Issei.

 ** _No luck?_**

Shirou put his hands to the keyboard to type out, **_No._**

 ** _And you're sure you can't just play the game like a normal person?_**

Shirou sent him an angry frowny face in response.

An emoticon with a sighing animation came in reply. **_Fine._** Issei typed. A download link appeared in the chat window. **_Here's a mod to artificially inflate the other girls' relationship stats_. _I found it deep in one of the cheats threads. You're welcome._**

Shirou stared at the link a long moment and then typed, **_You are my favorite person right now, Issei._**

 ** _I'm sure._** Issei replied. **_Now hurry up and finish the game. Shinji's getting whiny about the wait._**


	4. Powder

(A/N)- The prompt for this one was, "Shirou, Saber, and their first snow day." so this falls under the general "Saber returns" happy AU where nothing bad happens to Shirou or the girls ever and they can live their lives in peace dammit.

Dragonjek, Shirou summoning Mordred instead of Arturia sounds like great fun, buuuut I might not be the best person to write it, I don't really have much extensive Type-Moon know-how outside of Stay/Night. I'm not sure I'd get Mordred's personality down right. I'd have to research first. We'll see.

Disclaimer: Fateverse characters are not mine to own, only play with in my spare time. XD

* * *

 **Powder**

"Shirou!" Saber's voice hissed excitedly above him. "Shirou! Wake up!"

"Nnnh?" Shirou blinked, the image of her face swimming into view. "Saber?" His brain slogged into awareness, first noticing the chill in the room that nipped at his exposed face. He shivered and tugged the blankets a fraction tighter around him. _Jeez, why's it so cold?_ came his first confused thought.

" _Shirou!_ " Saber called insistently, grabbing his arm and now outright pulling at him.

"Woah! Hey!" Bewildered and still shaking off the last vestiges of sleep Shirou could only be dragged along as she tugged him out from under the covers and to his feet, both hands clasped tight around his. "All right, all right, I'm up. What's this about, Saber?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Come quickly!" Saber just told him, pulling him down the hallway as quickly as she could, her face alight with excitement.

"What is—"

Saber stopped abruptly once they came to the front hallway, and Shirou almost stumbled into her. He looked up. The door had been flung open and outside, carpeting the courtyard, was a layer of soft white powder, flakes of which were also falling softly from the sky.

"Wha—? Snow?" Shirou gawped, his eyes widening. "Is it… _snowing?_ " The weather had been unusually cold the days prior but… surely this wasn't actually real?

The wind from the open door blew frigid on his face. Laughter drifted on it to his ears. It sounded like Rin and Sakura were already outside, and from the notable absence of her shoes in the hall he guessed that Ilya was as well.

Saber had let go of his hand to clasp both of hers near her chest as she looked with delight upon the scene. Then she stooped to put on her shoes, lacing them in a rush.

"Hey, slow down," Shirou said, coming out of his stunned stupor. He reached for her but she was already up and heading towards the door. Shirou hastily shoved his socked feet into his own shoes as he tried to catch hold of her. "Wait, Saber! Put on a coat first!"

His fingers managed to pinch a corner of her sleeve, tugging her briefly to a halt as he got down a tan suede jacket from the rack by the door. Saber slid her arms into the sleeves at once as he held it out to her and in a flash had slipped away again and was outside, tromping towards the gate.

Shirou fumbled about the front hallway for several minutes, gathering his coat and a scarf and a wool hat, before joining her. (Though he, at least, remembered to close the door behind him.)

He blinked in the soft white light. His feet sank soundlessly into the snow piling underfoot, while flurries dropped quietly onto his head. Shirou marveled, twisting his head all around to see the courtyard in its full winter glory.

Rin and Sakura were building a snowman—or, rather, the lumpy uneven semblance of one. It was off-kilter and tilting but the sisters looked terribly proud of it nonetheless. They giggled to each other as they batted snow off its oblong sides, trying to smooth it out. Ilya, meanwhile, was on her back, her legs and arms spread out, white hair pillowing on the white snow beneath her. She moved her limbs back and forth and then sat up, breathless, her cheeks and nose rosy. She looked up at Shirou and laughed at his expression.

"Don't tell me you've never seen snow before, Onii-chan!"

Shirou shook his head in wonder. "Not in person. It doesn't really snow in Fuyuki." He crossed his arms and leaned back with a smile. "Well, I guess it's no surprise that you've seen it."

"Of course." Ilya got carefully to her feet, so as not to ruin her snow angel, and tossed the snow out of her hair with a casaul flip. "It snowed all the time at Einzbern Castle."

Shirou felt a shadow by his shoulder and shifted to find Saber there. He was glad to see that she'd put on the mittens from her coat pocket. She was holding a handful of snow in them, which she let fall with a smile as she looked up.

"In Britain, during winter… it would often snow," she said. "Sometimes it was higher than my knees." Her gaze drifted around the courtyard. "I've always liked the snow…" she murmured.

He might've made some smart quip in reply, about why she kept hogging the blankets if she liked the cold so much, but looking at her now—her cheeks flushed and pink, her eyes alight with happiness, white flakes settling into her golden hair, clinging to her bangs like a crown of tiny paper flowers—he found himself struck oddly… dumb.

Up until he felt something wet and cold smack the back of his head.

"Hey!" he protested, whirling around and frantically brushing the compacted snow off his neck. Sakura was giggling behind her hand and Rin was brushing snow off her palms. "What was that for, Tohsaka?" Shirou complained, glaring at her.

She crossed her arms with a smug look. "It's snowing, you dummy. Shouldn't we have a snowball fight?"

"Attacking while my back was turned wasn't exactly fair." Shirou smirked mischievously, reaching back to grab Saber's hand. "But if it's a fight you want, we'll give it to you. Saber's on my team of course."

Rin put her fists on her hips. "Well then Ilya's on mine."

"Ilya temporarily disqualifies herself in order to teach you two how to make a _proper_ snowman," Ilya sniffed, coming over and turning up her nose at the misshapen snowman, whose head Sakura was desperately trying to keep balanced on its body.

Saber looked amused. "We are doing battle in the snow?" she inquired.

"As soon as you're all experts on how to pack it," Ilya told them, taking an authoritative teaching stance in front of them.

-FSN-

Once Ilya had deemed their snowballs "sufficient" enough, the snowball fight began in earnest. Shirou and Saber ducked behind trees and corners of the house, laughing as they tossed the icy pellets out towards Rin's team.

Shirou barely even noticed the cold anymore. He was so caught up, strategizing different attack patterns and squashing snowballs into the perfect compact spheres, sneaking affectionate kisses with Saber in-between dodging Ilya, Rin, and Sakura's hail of snowbombs.

They were pinned behind the corner of the Dojo now, craning their necks out for a glimpse of their adversaries.

"Where did they go?" wondered Shirou. He thought they'd been right behind them on their heels just a moment—

"Shirou, watch out!" Saber called, spotting the trio sneaking up from their blind spot. She darted in front of him to shield him with her body.

Rin's hard curveball was a little too enthusiastic and pinned Saber right in the gut. She fell back into Shirou, who slipped on the wet snow and toppled over with her.

They landed in a heap of limbs and fur and cold flakes, and their sides shook with chuckles. Saber blushed from their awkward position, and Shirou couldn't resist a quick peck on her cheek and a whispered exhortation in her ear.

As they attempted to disengage, Rin sauntered over, flanked by her sister and Ilya, all wearing grins.

"Looks like you're defeated, Emiya," Rin crowed.

Shirou helped Saber up first before he attempted to rise, conceding defeat with a small nod. "Well, I don't really mind," he said. "That was fun." He rubbed the small of his back. "Ow."

"Sempai, are you all right?" Sakura asked, tiltling her head in concern.

He smiled at her reassuringly. "Just a little sore."

Saber pushed her snow-covered bangs out of her face. "Shall we go inside now?" she asked. "The battle seems to have worked up my appetite."

"Make me something too, Shirou!" Ilya piped in.

"All right," he said. "Lunch will be on soon." Rin and Sakura were already running back to their snowman, to fix his sagging head. Shirou took Saber's hand. "Are you cold?" he asked her.

"Slightly," she replied. "I think a bit of snow may have become trapped under my collar."

"Well," he said, "don't worry. I'll make you something warm right away."

He turned them back towards the house, her hand tucked in his, utterly content as the snow fell silently around them.


	5. Heaven and Hell

(A/N)- As suggested by Dragonjek, we have here an "Iri finds Shirou" AU. Because feels.

Disclaimer: *laughs* Yeah right.

* * *

 **Heaven and Hell**

Awareness was the last thing she was expecting.

She was supposed to die, her soul to be absorbed by the Greater Grail, her body to dissolve and reform into its physical container. She'd known that for a long time. She'd been ready to sacrifice herself, give up her life to bring about Kiritsugu's dream. _Their_ dream, she told herself. All his—their—hopes for a better world.

Her body had already died, killed by Kotomine, her mind lingering a while longer before sinking softly into the oblivion she had prepared herself for.

And yet...

And _yet_...

It its haste to expel the golden archer, she had been expelled as well. Thrown up. Cast out of the Grail's gullet. So here she was. Awake. Aware.

 _Alive?_

She wasn't sure yet. Consciousness came back to her slowly.

She was splayed on the hard ashen ground. The air was hot. Too hot. It burned her throat, stung her eyes, itched on her bare skin. Every breath she took in was ragged, uncomfortable. Her body shook with the motion, lungs struggling.

She scrabbled for purchase with her fingers, nails digging into rough dirt. Dust was clogging her nose; she had to lift her head.

Straining, she brought her knees underneath her, and pushed herself up with her arms. Her white hair dropped limply around her. She knelt there, breathing a moment. Then she lifted her head and looked up.

And wished at once to return to oblivion.

For this? This burning desolation? It could only be Hell.

Iri looked around, horror in her eyes. Everywhere she looked, it was burning, and burning. Flames covered the ground, sparking high into the air, filling it with smoke and ash and soot. The cries of the dying surrounded her. All was reduced to rubble and debris.

High above them in the sky, the black hole that was the Grail dripped out its last curses, scorching the Earth below.

Iri put her hands out, shakily getting to her feet. Her new knees wobbled, unsteady, unused to having to support her. Her wide eyes darted around, and the flames reflected in them.

This... this wasn't her husband's wish. It couldn't have been. It had to be someone else's.

But how? Had he lost? Had someone else beaten him to the Grail? It didn't seem possible.

 _No... I... remember..._ He hadn't lost. The Grail had embraced him. Somewhere in the fuzz and fog of her mind she knew this was true. So then why...?

A sudden spike of panic gripped her.

 _Where was he?_

Iri felt dread and worry pool in her chest like a cold block of ice. If Kiritsugu had rebuffed the Grail, what had it done to him? Where had he gone? Was he somewhere in this... this desolation?

Like a frenzied drunk, Iri ran through the fire, stumbling, tripping over debris. "Kiritsugu!" she cried as she ran. "Kiritsugu!"

The heat scorched her naked skin. The smoke choked her. To get a modicum of shielding from the popping sparks and awful heat, she found herself grabbing the remains of a cloth awning, wrapping it around her.

She clutched the edges tight to her chest, searching.

 _There!_

She spotted him, lying prone on his back across a pile of bubbling mud. The brief flash of relief she felt as she flung herself to her knees next to him faded almost immediately as she took in his face—heavily burned and coated on one side with black boils.

But his eyes were the same as they opened and looked at her. A faint smile cracked his face.

"Iri..." he whispered, raising a hand to touch her face.

"Kiritsugu," she said, voice trembling. She cupped his chin with both hands.

"Am I dead then?" he asked her. She hated how weak it sounded, as if every breath was taking an effort.

She shook her head. "No, I... I'm alive. I don't know how but—"

"Then—" he interrupted, a spark coming into his eyes. "—then there's still a chance."

"Kiritsugu... " she breathed. Hot tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she blinked them back. " _Why?_ "she strained, emotion choking her voice."Why did you reject the Grail? Your dream..." she trailed off, unable to continue.

The look he gave her... He smiled again, but it was full of pain. Of regret.

"It wasn't worth it," he said. "How the Grail would have granted my wish... it was too high a cost. I couldn't justify it." His head shook, wearily. "Not even... to myself."

"But—" Iri sputtered. "But—"

"Iri," he said, lifting his head suddenly, grabbing one of her hands tight. "Iri, the Grail is evil. Curses dwell inside it. Look around you." He gestured about them. "This is the Grail's curse." He lay back down, heaving from the effort. "They don't deserve this, Iri. You have..." The words strained out of him as a pained shudder flushed through his body. "You have to save them."

To her shock and astonishment, he made a gesture to slice himself open, and reached into the blinding golden light that spilled forth from the split.

"No!" Iri cried, the familiar radiant glow blinding her, dazzling her eyes. "Kiritsugu, you'll die!"

He drew the golden sheath from his his body slowly, with reverence, his face already looking grayer. "I'm already dead," he said, mouth upturned grimly. "Not even Avalon... can stop that now. Even with it inside me, I could feel myself fading." His hand grasped hold of the scabbard as the split in his chest sealed. "It's too late for me... but... maybe not... for someone else..."

Hands shaking, he extended the sheath towards her.

"No," Iri sobbed, shaking her head, grabbing handfuls of his clothes, ignoring the offered scabbard. "Please... don't leave me!" she begged.

"You have to save them, Iri," he repeated. His chest shuddered, breathing unsteady. "Save them. Save _someone_. Promise me."

Iri's heart clenched and she squeezed her eyes closed, praying for strength. How could he ask her to carry on, when her reason for living was dying? But he'd given her a request, imparted to her his last desire, and she who would have gladly died for him— _had_ already died for him—must now attempt to fulfill it, or she didn't love him at all.

"I... I will," she promised in a broken squeak.

Her hands found Avalon, gripped the beautiful scabbard tightly.

Strength faded out of Kiritsugu's body as he passed it over, his fingers loosening and his hand dropping to his chest. "Tell... Illya... I'm sorry," he rasped. "Her daddy wasn't... strong enough..."

"Don't speak," Iri said, pulling Avalon to her chest. "Just rest." She got her feet underneath her and awkwardly got up, clinging Avalon and the cloth awning. She stumbled off, diving into the hell that surrounded them once again.

She forced herself to keep going, forced herself not to look back, not to run back to Kiritsugu's side.

She didn't see the breath still in his chest, didn't hear his last whispered prayer as he watched her receding back.

"Please..." he begged whatever unseen forces were listening, "...let her find someone."

-FSN-

Her pale white feet were scratched and bruised. Now covered in dirt. The once clean, new nails broken and chipped. Aching.

She shuffled listlessly through the ruin, unseeing. Wandering aimlessly. The stench of soot and death and burning flesh stung her nose. Her hair clung to her back with sweat. The awning she was using to cover herself had snagged more than a few times and was now rife around the edges with rips and holes. The heat from the inferno smothered her, cloying, suffocating. It was hard to breathe and her head felt light.

But she didn't stop.

Ever on her weary feet carried her, purposeless, but still seeking a purpose. Despair threatened to sink her, and yet she continued to wander through the flames, searching, seeking.

Avalon was starting to grow limp in her arms. It was all she could do to keep hold of it, keep herself from flinging herself to the ground and curling up with hopeless sobs as she waited for the flames to take her.

 _Save them_ , he'd told her. But there wasn't anyone to save. There was no one left. Everywhere she looked, there was death, and more death.

The tears she'd been holding back earlier returned, blurring her vision into a dull red smear.

 _I should never have left him_ , she thought despondently. She should have stayed with him to the end, made her body his shroud, the blaze their funeral pyre. What purpose was there in living, in scrabbling at the dirt for signs of a survivor, when he was gone?

Hot wet trails streaked down her cheeks. She stopped to inhale and compose herself, but didn't bother to wipe them away.

Kiritsugu had had hope—in her, in her strength, in the idea that some good could be seized from the midst of all this evil. So she must too.

Iri lifted a corner of the awning and smeared it across her face, the blue of night and the bright orange flames coming into focus once again.

She turned, stumbling off in a direction she hadn't tried yet. The sky above turned gray, heavy with the impending threat of rain. The flames were beginning to subside, licking rather than devouring. Iri climbed awkwardly over a splintered wooden beam in her path. She batted away a sprinkling of raindrops, scanning the way ahead for a clear path.

She stopped abruptly. Amidst the piles of ash and rubble and the little growing wet puddles, she thought she'd caught sight of—

 _There!_

A swell rose up through her chest. She jerked into a run, almost tripping in her haste and elation. At the bottom of the hill, from behind a scorched pile of debris, there was a tiny hand sticking up. Reaching, grasping towards the sky. The first true sign that something in this wretched desolation yet lived.

Avalon dropped beside her as she fell to her palms and knees, feverishly grasping the tiny hand with both of her own.

"I found you! Oh thank God, I found you!" she exclaimed, breathless.

The boy the hand belonged to looked up at her with empty, glass-like eyes. "Mom?" The word blurted out so quietly she almost missed it. The boy squinted, confusion entering his eyes.

Iri was crying so hard she was laughing, repeating in a gentle whisper, "It's okay... It's okay... I found you..."

His empty eyes stared at her, uncomprehending. His little face was scratched and bruised, ash and dirt clogging his messy red hair. He lay very still, dying but not yet dead. There was hope for him. He could be saved!

"Are you here... to take me to Heaven?" he asked, voice weak.

Iri shook her head, holding his cold little hand to her cheek. "No, little one," she whispered tenderly. "You're going to live." Her arms came around him, lifting him into a tight embrace. "You're going to _live_ ," she repeated with conviction.

She held him to her chest, wreathed in golden light and weeping in relief, as the rain came down in cool waves, extinguishing the fire at last.

* * *

(A/N)- I haven't _nearly_ exhausted all the idea I have for this AU, so don't worry. We'll be visiting it again soon.


	6. Resentment

(A/N)- A very small AU tweak of the Fate route scene where Ilya has Shirou captured and held prisoner in her castle. Very small. Mostly only done for the whump and the sister reveal.

Disclaimer: *glances around* Nope, still don't own Fate/Stay Night. Darn.

* * *

 **Resentment**

A splash of cold water to his face brought Shirou back to consciousness with a gasp. He coughed violently, hacking out stray droplets of water from his aching lungs.

Ilya stood above him impassively with the upturned bucket, her red eyes glaring down with a cold expression at him.

"I did not say you could pass out," she growled. She tossed the bucket away with a clatter, then knelt down by his head, placing a hand on his cheek. "I want you awake for every moment of this, Onii-chan."

"I-Ilya…" he croaked, his head still swimming, his arms aching from their position behind him, pinned between the chair he was bound to and the cold marble floor. He saw Ilya give a smirk, and his pulse spiked. "Wait—"

She cut him off with another flash of that blinding pain. Shirou felt his body seize up, heard himself crying out as if from a distance as the million tiny needle-like stings pushing outwards from inside him overtook his senses again. His ears rang. His lungs burned.

As suddenly as she'd inflicted it, Ilya let him have a reprieve. Shirou panted, his chest heaving, sweat and lingering dampness making the collar of his shirt stick to his skin. When Ilya had described this torture to him—basically a complicated spell that, near as he'd gathered, overstimulated a magus's magic circuits to the point of pain—it had sounded almost harmless to him. He could never have imagined hurting this much.

The reintroduction to the white-hot agony had jogged his memory and now he could recall, all too well, the fire of it coursing through him, clawing at his insides, stealing his breath and making him thrash wildly until he felt himself tilt back with a dizzy lurch.

That was how he had ended up on the floor, he supposed.

Ilya was behind his head now, hoisting the chair back up with a girlish grunt of effort. She huffed, her arms straining, as she pushed the chair back into its upright position.

Shirou groaned as the hard jostle caused the ropes to dig uncomfortably into his skin. Spots blossomed in front of his vision and for a long minute he couldn't focus.

"Honestly," Ilya was snorting. "You really are a half-baked magus. I'm not even using the spell at its full potential."

She raised her hand at him.

"Wait Ilya, s-stop…" he rasped out. "Why—" A fit of coughing rocked his frame with violent shudders. When he got his breath back he finished, "—why are you doing this?" He knew the girl could be cruel, despite her innocent facade, but this seemed a step too far even for her. All she had to do was let Berserker take a swing at him and he'd be done for, out of the fight for the Grail permenantly. Why torture him? Why draw things out like this? He couldn't comprehend.

Her red eyes had a malicious gleam. "Because I hate you," she said pleasantly, smiling.

A glowing sigil appeared in her palm and Shirou was beset by another rushing onslaught of pain. His body rocked harshly in his seat, spasming, and he made the mistake of biting his tongue, giving a muffled yelp as his jaws clamped down and his own teeth pierced him.

When Ilya stopped, his head hung forward limply, a dribble of blood dropping from his lips. Shirou breathed hard, swallowed and felt the hot copper tang sting his throat. His wrists ached, rubbed raw from the coarse rope.

"I know… that in this War… we're enemies…" he choked out. He shook his head weakly. "But still…" he said, "…Ilya… I don't think… you're the type of person… that enjoys doing this."

He looked up at her, searching. She glowered at him, her brows narrowed, expression infuriated.

"I _am_ enjoying this!" she insisted.

Shirou shook his head again. "No," he said, a soft smile gracing his lips. "If you _really_ wanted to hurt me, you wouldn't have held back the first few times."

Her palm glowed. He yelped, a high-pitched screech, as another flash of pain—worse than the others—pierced through him.

"I was just letting you warm up," Ilya spat, "for when the _real_ pain comes."

Grimacing, Shirou shifted on his seat, trying to clear his head. Okay, maybe his guess had been wrong. His thoughts rolled about listlessly inside his pounding head as he tried to make sense of the girl's motives. This torment still seemed excessive for someone who was just an enemy in the Grail War. Something about all of this felt intensely… _personal._

"Ilya… what's your game with this?" he asked wearily. "Why don't you just kill me and be done with it, if you want me out of your way so badly?"

She didn't reply for a long moment. He looked up, and saw an oddly guarded expression on her face.

"…Shirou really doesn't know, does he?" she said softly. She gave a little giggle, lowering her hand to clasp it behind her back with the other one. She leaned over, beaming. "This isn't about the Grail, Shirou," she chirped. "It's about you."

Shirou blinked in confusion. "Me?"

"Mmm-hmm," Ilya confirmed with a cheerful nod. Much less congenially she added, her eyes glowing dangerously, "And how much I despise your existance."

Foreboding hammered at his heart. "I don't understand." He raked his brain through the events of the past few days, trying to figure out what he could have done that would have given Ilya such a specific grudge against him.

But then, he remembered… Ilya had seemed to know of him _before_ the Grail War…

Ilya poked a finger into his chest, breaking his train of thought. "Because it's your fault, Shirou," she explained. "You're the reason he never came home."

"What are you saying?" Ilya was uncomfortably up in his face now and Shirou leaned back as far as he was allowed. "Ilya, I don't—"

"He found you and he forgot all about his family," Ilya interrupted, starting to circle him. Her voice dripped with an eerie anger now. The pleasant smile was still in place but it was strained, faltering. "He forgot all about _me._ Everyone always leaves me in the end, you know," she said, in a melancholy kind of sing-song.

"What are you talking—" Something clicked inside his brain all of a sudden. "Wait…" Shirou's eyes widened. Ilya had mentioned a "him". "He" had been her family, "he" had left and… found Shirou. _No way,_ he thought. "Ilya, was…" he asked, "…was Kiritsugu your father?"

She stopped circling and faced him. "Hmm. I guess you're not as dense as I thought," she mused. Her spine straightened proudly. "Yes, I was Emiya Kiritsugu's daughter… before he betrayed the Einzberns and never returned from the Grail War."

"So that makes us—?"

Ilya shrugged. "Half-siblings I guess. It doesn't matter." A malicious grin had spread across her face. "Because you're not going to leave me, Onii-chan. Not like he did. I'm going to keep you forever. That's why it'd be a waste to kill you now." She raised her hand and let it glow ominously. "After all, I'm not done playing with you."

Shirou opened his mouth to speak but a burst of pain like a stab to his innards punched his gut and doubled him over. His eyes clamped shut, his jaw clenching, every muscle tensing as he waited it out. A desperate gasp filled his lungs once it was over. He could feel himself shaking, every intake of breath making him shudder. He resisted the urge to whimper. He wouldn't give Ilya the satisfaction of knowing how much her spell was hurting him.

He focused instead on the indignant righteous anger bubbling in his stomach.

"Kiritsugu would never have abandoned you," he growled. "He wasn't like that! How can you believe he'd do such a thing?!"

All glee vanished from Ilya's face and she was truly angry now. "I don't _believe_ it, it's _true!_ " she snapped.

Shirou rolled his eyes. "Like hell it is." The man's mysterious trips abroad made a sudden amount of sense to Shirou now. Kiritsugu must have been trying to get back to see Ilya but, for some reason or another, he had been prevented. "If you knew him at all you'd know that he'd never turn his back on someone he cared about," Shirou said.

Ilya forewent punishing him for that statement with another round of pain, opting instead to just dart forward and slug him hard across the face. Shirou's head snapped to the side with the force, and he could feel blood pooling in his mouth again.

"Like _you_ knew him so well!" Ilya was shouting. "How much could _you_ know about him, if he never even told you about me? You're just some orphan he pulled from a burning pile of rubble and took pity on!"

The next time her hand glowed was the worst yet; Shirou almost lost consciousness again, overwhelmed by the burning pain. When he came to himself and could think again, he decided it was time to put an end to this.

He muttered the words under his breath.

"Trace o—nnggh!"

He'd been unprepared for the sudden aftershock of pain. It felt a bit like trying to use a strained or pulled muscle; it didn't do anything and just hurt. Shirou blinked uncomprehendingly down at his lap.

"That won't work, Onii-chan," Ilya trilled, dancing slightly on her toes. "Your magic circuits have been overloaded. They can't handle any other spells right now." Her smile of mean satisfaction was back, and her eyes glowed creepily bright in the light from the window. "You're all mine," she whispered.

Fear crept through his veins. Shirou squirmed, feeling truly helpless for the first time. He saw the sigil in Ilya's palm beginning to light and flinched in preparation.

Pain assaulted his senses. The scream tore from him almost involuntarily, high and piercing, a shrill wordless cry of agony. Shirou had no control of his body, he couldn't think, he couldn't _breathe,_ everything in him was ripping and tearing apart. His heart jolted, the pain stabbing deep into his chest. It felt like every molecule in his body was breaking, every bone fracturing and splintering. He wanted to beg Ilya to stop but he couldn't even form words. All he could do was shriek, and wail, and endure.

And then suddenly it was gone. Shirou didn't even realize he had stopped hurting for several long seconds. His wailing died down.

 _Ilya… must be letting me have a rest again_ , came the dull thought.

But no, Ilya wasn't looking at him. She was wide-eyed on the floor, looking shocked. And there was dust and rubble blowing through the room, chunks of masonry and stonework sailing past him, as if something had blown out the wall to their left. Shirou tried to focus through blurry, swiming eyes. He blinked past his bangs towards the hole, peering through the gray dust.

Blue… Something blue, softly waving in the wind. Blue fabric.

Silver armor.

Golden hair.

Shirou's heart gave a leap even before the comprehension dawned on him, and his chapped lips were already parting to call her name.

"Sa… ber…" he whispered happily.

His head was still spinning dizzily but there could be no mistaking her, standing in the gap with her sword raised and her brows narrowed. It was Saber.

And she looked _pissed._

"Run," she growled at Ilya. "Before I change my mind about striking you down."

The girl gasped, scrambling to her feet, turning tail and running out the door. "Berserker!" he heard her cry before she disappeared.

Saber glared after her impassively, then her expression turned to worry as she moved towards him. "Shirou!" she cried. Her sword lowered as she cupped his face with one hand, looking over him in concern. "Are you all right?"

In truth, Shirou's head was still pounding, and his body was still throbbing and tingling all over with uncomfortable sharp pangs. But he ignored the pain to smile and tell her, "Better, now that you're here Saber."

"Hold still," she instructed.

With a few quick swipes of Excalibur, she sliced through the binds holding Shirou to the chair. As he slumped forward, she caught hold of him.

"Can you walk? Ilya will soon return, with Berserker in tow I imagine."

Shirou shook his head dully. He had already tried to push off Saber and balance upright on his own feet, but his legs felt like soggy jelly and all his limbs seemed weighted down. "I don't think I can. She took a lot out of me. Sorry, Saber."

Her arms clutched him tighter. She put Excalibur away, so she could better hold him. "No matter," she said, a soft smile ghosting across her lips. "I've got you. Don't worry." She gathered him up into her arms, as though he was light as a feather. "I'll get you out of here."

He reached up, clasping his hands behind her neck, a fuzzy darkness beginning to fog up his mind. "Thanks… Saber," he murmured, a dazed, dreamy look in his eyes.

Saber nodded, and then she was all business, turning swiftly on her foot and leaping from the second story bedroom Ilya had stowed Shirou in down to the ground. She hit the ground running, bounding in great strides with Shirou clinging tightly to her as they made their escape.


	7. Needling

(A/N)- The tumblr anon for this one basically wanted a scene where Archer was interrogated by Gilgamesh. I saw the opportunity for Archer snark and I ran with it.

Very crack. Much uncanon.

Disclaimer: Like I even need to say it.

* * *

 **Needling**

"What kind of Servant lets himself get captured in broad daylight?" laughed Gilgamesh.

Archer shifted uncomfortably on his knees. His hands twisted idly in his binds.

"Just my luck I suppose," he muttered.

He had been running an errand for Rin. The household had run out of certain supplies—to his everlasting embarassment, certain _feminine_ supplies—and as his Master was busy teaching his inept younger self the secrets of proper magecraft, and as Saber was utterly clueless about modern methods of personal female hygiene, _he_ had been elected to go fetch them. He had protested only briefly and mildly, before an irate Rin threatened him with her command seals, and then had accepted his task with no small reluctance.

He had donned plain civilian clothing for the occasion, hoping to blend in unobtrusively with the populace.

Apparently that had not been enough to fool Lancer, whom Archer had run into lurking just outside the boundary field of the house on his way back.

The ensuing fight had cost him the groceries (Rin was not going to be happy about that) and his shirt (a pity really, it had been the only one he could find that had fit him), as Lancer's magic spear rent both of them over and over again until they were shredded, Archer just managing to defend himself against the onslaught. But during the battle the legendary Irish hero had said some rather interesting things, insinuating the presence of another Archer, a Master at the church, an insidious plot to summon the Grail before the true end of the war.

Keenly interested in this rather startling bit of news, Archer had considered his options and then came to an executive decision. Rin wouldn't be happy, but in the long run it would probably save her life—and the lives of Emiya and the rest.

So he'd surrendered, and allowed himself to be taken to the church.

…Though he was starting to regret that decision now.

The other Archer was a swaggering blonde peacock who'd wasted no time in announcing his identity as Gilgamesh, of the Mesopotamian epic. He had not stopped laughing since Archer had arrived.

"Ha!" he was crowing. "Your luck must be worse than even Lancer's!"

Standing off to the side, the Servant in question made a face at that. "Oy…" he said, indignant.

Gilgamesh sauntered over, one hand on his hip, red eyes scoffing down at Archer. "Now that I've captured you—"

"Hey, you didn't do anything. I was the one who caught him!" Lancer protested.

"Technically I surrendered," interjected Archer.

Gilgamesh waved that off. "Such miniscule details don't matter." His raised hand called forth a handful of silver chains, seemingly from nowhere, that wrapped themselves around Archer's torso and hauled him up off his feet. Gilgamesh sneered and said, "At any rate, perhaps, while we're waiting for my Master to return, we can learn the secret of your identity, _Archer._ "

Archer's face twinged in discomfort as the chains pinched his skin, but was otherwise unruffled. "Just to warn you," he said, tone very calm and conversational, "you won't get anything out of me. I'm not very good entertainment."

Gilgamesh smirked. "We'll see about that."

-FSN-

Nearly half an hour later, however, Archer's words proved… frustratingly prophetic.

Gilgamesh had circled and questioned him a dozen times over now, and if Archer didn't reply with stubborn stony silence the answer he gave was short, brief, and entirely unhelpful.

For the question, "What is your heroic identity?":

"I don't remember."

Tightening the chains and accusing him of lying had yielded nothing further. Gilgamesh had mused aloud about the potential for Archer to have accquired brain damage during his summoning.

"Perhaps. My Master's summoning skills are amateurish at best. Don't let her hear you say that, though," Archer had joked.

That had earned him a knife to his shoulder from out of the Gate of Babylon (from what Archer surmised, a repository of countless weapons Gilgamesh could summon at his whim).

For the question: "What is your Noble Phantasm?"

"Ask Lancer."

Gilgamesh had turned to Lancer and barked, "Lancer! What did this mongrel have at his disposal?"

Lancer had replied surlishly, "I don't know. He had two curved blades, one black, one white. And he had a barrier that could repell _Gae Bolg._ "

Gilgamesh had turned a suspicious eye on Archer. "I thought you were supposed to be Archer class. What kind of Archer primarily uses swords?"

"I could ask you the same," Archer replied, nodding towards the dozens of hilts floating in midair behind Gilgamesh, who promptly used one to smack him across the face.

For any and all questions pertaining to Rin, Saber, Shirou, or the house:

Silence.

Which of course eventually earned him another blade to the gut.

Archer coughed a mouthful of blood onto the floor. At this rate the jeans he'd borrowed from Shirou were pretty much ruined. Archer could already hear his younger self whining up a storm about it.

He really needed to get back home to resume smacking some sense into that kid.

"Heh," he chuckled, looking up from the blood trickling down his chest. "That _almost_ hurt that time."

Gilgamesh made a face at the display, as if the very sight of Archer bleeding was offensive to him.

"Clean that up," he told Lancer, gesturing towards the sticky pool rapidly forming on the floor underneath the Servant.

Lancer gave Gilgamesh the biggest stink-eye he could manage. "You don't give the orders around here," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Of course I do. I'm a King," Gilgamesh dismissed.

Lancer grumbled, but obediantly pulled the short sword out of Archer's body and then went to get a mop.

Gilgamesh turned a surly gaze back on his captive. Archer's lack of concern about his predicament confused and annoyed him. He was rapidly running out of patience. "I'm growing tired of this, Mongrel," he growled. "Tell me already: What is your Noble Phantasm?"

Archer shifted idly in the chains. "Why don't you bring _your_ Noble Phantasms out of that Gate of yours and show them to me one at a time and I'll tell you yes or no?"

"You insolent little-!" Gilgamesh twitched and tensed as he reigned himself in, his fingers curling in aggravation. If Kotomine had not given him explicit instructions not to kill any of the other Servants or Masters—yet—the King of Heroes would have already filled Archer with holes.

His irritation was not helped by Archer's flat, "You're boring me."

Gilgamesh's eyes flashed with anger. "You are trying my patience, Mongrel. Perhaps you were unaware, but it is not considered wise to make me—"

Archer had the audacity to yawn in the middle of his sentance.

Incensed, Gilgamesh raised his fist, tightening the Chains of Heaven. Archer grimaced in discomfort, but seemed otherwise unimpressed, despite the fact that the breath was being squeezed out of him and he had to have cracked a few ribs by now.

"Is that… all you've got… King of Heroes?" he managed to get out, smirking cheekily. " _Rin_ can squeeze harder than you."

Seething, Gilgamesh entertained the thought of peeling Archer's skin off for several moments. "Lancer!" he shouted.

Lancer had just returned from fetching the cleaning supplies and looked none too happy at being barked at again. " _What?_ " he griped.

"The fireplace upstairs has iron pokers right?"

The Irishman raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Bring me one. I need to burn the smirk off this guy's face," Gilgamesh said through his teeth, glaring at Archer.

"What am I, your Servant?" Lancer complained. "I don't recall accepting a contract with you. Just because you're Kotomine's favorite doesn't mean you're allowed to boss me around."

"I can order you as I wish. I am the King of Heroes," Gilgamesh sniped back. "You should be grateful just to be in my presence."

"I'll be grateful when I'm _out_ of your presence!"

"If you two are done arguing like an old married couple—" Archer interjected.

Though Gilgamesh had gotten nothing out of him, Archer had been gathering plenty, simply by listening and observing. He now knew that Kirei Kotomine, the supposedly neutral mediator of the Grail War, was both Lancer and Gilgamesh's Master (how that worked he couldn't figure yet), and that he was covertly gathering intelligence on the other Masters. Lancer was resentful about the whole situation, which meant he could be reasoned with and brought to their side, with some convincing.

Oh, and Gilgamesh was basically a massive prick with a god-complex and the power to match but that went without saying.

The King of Heroes had simmered down a bit. He picked up a wineglass from a table and took a sip from it. "Let's try asking some different questions. I warn you, this is your last chance to be reasonable before I turn you into my new favorite pincushion." He set the wineglass back down, licking his lips with a suspicious leer. "You seem unusually familiar with Saber," he began. "What is your relationship to her?"

Archer wasn't surprised at the question. There had been a certain fixation in Gilgamesh's words and expressions on Saber. He'd noticed how the man's vocal inflection changed as he spoke her name, and how he'd seemed keen on knowing more about her specifically. The predatory glint in Gilgamesh's eyes told him all he needed to know about the motives behind the interest.

So he replied flatly: "We had intimate coital relations in the bathhouse of the Emiya residence."

Gilgamesh lost it. "YOU LOW-LIFE BASTARD SON OF A BITCH!" he screeched, his eyes bugging out with apoplectic fury. His arms flailed with his anger and outrage, as he bellowed at full volume. "YOU WOULD _DARE_ TOUCH THE KING'S TREASURES AND DEFOUL THEM WITH YOUR FILTHY TOUCH?!" he yelled.

"No," chuckled Archer, grinning to himself. "But the look on your face was priceless."

"MONGREL!" Gilgamesh howled, priming the Gate of Babylon to fill Archer with a thousand bladed weapons.

Of course that was when Archer unleashed a hail of copies of the swords in the Gate visible to him. Taken off-guard, Gilgamesh stumbled back, his barrage interrupted, and inadvertedly loosened the Chains of Heaven.

It was just enough for Archer to slip free. He dematerialized into spirit form at once and, laughing, made his way out. Gilgamesh spewed curses and weapons after him. Lancer made a half-hearted show of stabbing the air in Archer's general direction, but was too busy chuckling at Gilgamesh's expense to really do anything to prevent Archer's escape.

Archer hastened from the churchgrounds as quickly as he could, holding a hand to his sore ribs and the cut in his diaphragm. He was still bleeding and sore, but he'd learned what he'd come to learn.

Now all that was left was to face Rin and with his warning hopefully earn her mercy for his failed mission.

He supposed he should also return Shirou's pants, though the boy probably wouldn't want them back now.

 _Though it's not like he has room to complain,_ thought Archer, musing on all the clothes _Shirou_ had ruined via bloodstained wounds.

He really was an idiot.

* * *

(A/N)- Trollololo. XD


End file.
